My Town, My Responsibility
by LadyofDodge
Summary: Thirty miles and still two hours out of Dodge, surrounded by nothing but open countryside and swirling snow, Matt Dillon pulled his hat down and his collar up and leaned into his mount's neck, hopeful that he would make it back to Dodge before the worst of the storm hit. This story was written in response to a challenge to write a story that could be filmed as a Gunsmoke episode.
1. Chapter 1

**My Town, My Responsibility**

** Chapter One **

**A January Day**

Jangling spurs announced the deputy's entry into the Long Branch. "It shore 'nuff pure oldee smells like snow out thar."

"Snow! It's gotta be more than forty degrees you…you…nincompoop. In fact, I was just thinking about asking a certain pretty lady if she'd do me the honor of accompanying me on my rounds into the country this afternoon."

"I know it's right nice out there now, Doc, but a Haggen nose kin sniff out snow surer 'n a baby kitten can sniff out its mama. And my nose a-tells me—and I'm a-tellin' you—it's gonna be snowin' 'fore this day is over."

Doc lowered the newspaper he was reading and sniffed the air. "By golly, I _do _smell something, but it's not snow. Festus, what in tarnation have you been doing this morning?"

Festus squinted his right eye at the old physician and poured himself a cup of coffee from the speckled enamel pot on the edge of the bar. "Wael, I mighta done stopped out ta ol' Miz Ritter's place t'is mornin', and she mighta give me somma them big fat oozy cimm-a-non buns she makes."

"That's not cimma—dang it, Festus—_cinnamon_ I'm smelling!"

"I ain't finished tellin' ya, Doc. Miz Ritter, she said iffen I was to milk Bessie and Bitsey fer 'er whilst she was takin' them buns outta the oven, she'd kindly give me some fer my trouble." He took a swallow of coffee and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Now, Doc, you know how tastesome Miz Ritter's cimm—how tastesome them buns is."

"Yes, Myrtle Ritter is a mighty fine cook, but that doesn't explain why you smell like you were wallowing in the hog trough."

"That's perzackly whut I'm tryin' to tell ya. Ya see, I _wuz_ a-wallerin' in t' hog trough. Leastways my boots wuz…"

Kitty Russell emerged from the office with the whiskey drummer, walked him to the door, and joined her "boys" at the table in time to hear Festus' words. "What are you two fussing about so early this morning?"

"Don't even ask," Doc harrumphed and rose from his seat. "I'm glad you're here. I have an important question to ask you."

"What is it, Doc?" she asked as she walked to the bar to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"You available in about an hour to accompany an older—but totally charming and debonnaire—physician on his rounds in the country?"

Kitty shook her head and walked back to where the doctor still stood at the table. "I wish I were, Doc, but I have drummers coming in all day—whiskey just left, beer distributor is coming at one, and in between I have another salesman coming to demonstrate some bar equipment that both he and the catalogues insist I just can't live without." She chuckled. "I'll be the judge of that, of course. Can I get a rain check on that buggy ride?"

"You bet you can. Might be a while, though. Days like this don't come around often this time of year." He swallowed the last of his coffee. "Now, I'll leave you to see if you can make any sense outta what this…this…" He ticked his head at Festus. "At what _he_ is saying."

"Miz Kitty, I was only jist tryin'… ."

Kitty turned to the deputy in an effort to distract him. "Matt get back yet?"

"No'm. But I 'spect he should be ridin' in direckly. Fact is, I better git on over t'the jail and make sure things is cleaned up jist the way Matthew likes 'em."

It was early afternoon when Kitty bid the beer distributor goodbye and left the outer doors wide open, welcoming in the unseasonably warm winter day. All along Front Street, townspeople lingered in shirtsleeves or light jackets, enjoying the sun on their faces and the balmy breeze on their backs, completely oblivious to the fact that, at that very moment, a fierce wind was moving out of the Dakotas and making its way swift as a prairie fire across the wide expanse of open plains that was Nebraska and Kansas.

**XxXxX**

Thirty miles and still two hours out of Dodge, surrounded by nothing but open countryside and swirling snow, Matt Dillon pulled his hat down and his collar up and leaned lower into his mount's neck, hopeful that he would make it back to town before the worst of the storm hit. As the buckskin protested the stinging assault of icy pellets against his face, the lawman whispered, "Easy, son, we've seen worse, you can do this."

**xXx**

Nearly four hours passed before a tired, wet, and half-frozen Matt Dillon rode down a deserted Front Street. Stopping first at the Long Branch, he tied his tired mount to the hitch rail and stepped inside. He took in the grim faces gathered around the old stove and moved quickly to Kitty's side. "What's going on? Something happen?"

Before she could answer, Tom Ashburn burst through the doors. "Sure am glad to see you back, Marshal. My little ones, Hallie and Henry—they're just six years old—they ain't come home from school yet, and the missus is gettin' mighty worried. You didn't happen to see nuthin' of 'em on your ride in, did ya?"

Matt shook his head at the farmer. "I'm sure they're safe down at the schoolhouse, Tom. Surely Jenny Kurtz didn't dismiss the children in this storm."

Pete Kreider stood up from the group of men gathered around the fire. "She didn't, Marshal. According to my boy, that windbag Winthrop Wheatley went to the school to pick up his granddaughter and ordered Miss Jenny to dismiss the students. When she said it wasn't safe to send them out in this weather, m'boy said Wheatley waved that fancy walking stick of his in her face and yelled that if she wanted to continue to teach in this town, she'd do as he said. M'boy and the Heckard boy, they put the littlest of the town children on their shoulders and carried 'em on home. Had the others hold hands and walk in a line behind them so's they all stayed together—and they all got here safe." Kreider sat down, accepting an offered beer and muttering that it's a sad day when the president of the school board doesn't have the sense of two fifteen year olds.

Matt swore under his breath. He felt Kitty's soft fingers brush his as she handed him a mug of hot soup. Aloud he asked, "Anyone else missing?"

This time it was Quint who spoke from the end of the bar. "Only the twins that we know of, Matt. No other reports so far. The town children are all accounted for. Of course, some of the homesteaders live so far out that maybe no one has been able to get word to us yet. And no one has seen Jenny Kurtz. Doc's not around either, but he was doing rounds out in the country today, so we figure he's hunkered down with one of the farm families."

"Okay, men," Matt spoke around a swallow of soup. "I'm going out there, and I'd sure appreciate some help. I can't officially order you to ride out into this storm, but…"

Quint cut him off. "That's why we're here, Matt. These men and I, we were the first search party. Rode for about two hours. That's about as much as we can ask of the horses in this weather. While we were out, Festus raised another group of men, and soon as we got back, they rode out. Just left about half an hour ago." He paused for a sip of coffee and nodded at the redhead who had yet to say a word. "We've kind of made this our headquarters, and Kitty here is keeping us supplied with sandwiches, soup and coffee."

Matt smiled his thanks into the sapphire blue eyes turned up to his. "All right, then, I'm going to head out there, but first I want to talk to Pete's boy." He turned back to the men gathered round the fire. "He at home now?"

"He sure is, Marshal. His ma has him thawin' out in front of the fire. He's not goin' nowhere. And will you tell the missus where I am so she won't worry?"

Matt nodded. "You men wait for Festus and his boys to return. No point in everyone being out there at once." He started out the door, then turned back to Tom Ashburn. "You want to go with me?"

"No, Marshal. I'll start on home to Martha. The twins might be there by now."

Matt nodded again and moved back to the bar for a quiet word with Kitty, who had been placing thick slices of ham on slabs of warm buttered bread and wrapping them in a cloth napkin. She followed him outside and slipped the package into his pocket as he untied his horse. "Be careful out there, Matt. This storm is the scariest one I've ever seen." She shivered and pulled her black shawl tighter around her shoulders.

He settled into the saddle and looked somberly down at her. "Think how scary it must be for a pair of six year olds." He held her eyes for a moment, then turned and rode down Front Street toward the livery.

**xXx**

As he rode the short distance to the stable, Dillon considered his options, and none of them were good. As he saw it, he was searching for two small children and one adult. He could ride out again on the already tired buckskin and trail a pack horse, but that meant having to maneuver and control a riderless horse in the foul weather. He could take a fresh mount, but no other horse in the stable was as steady and reliable as the big gelding he was riding. Or, he could take a wagon, but that would slow him down and presented its own set of challenges on the icy trail. When he reached the stable, he blew out a deep breath and handed the reins over to Hank with instructions to take care of the buckskin, adding that they would be riding out again within the hour. He saw Hank's eyebrows go up, but the stableman only nodded and said, "I'll have him ready for you, Marshal."

Then he walked the three short blocks to the Kreider home on Third Street and knocked on the door. He accepted a cup of coffee and listened while a still-shivering Petey repeated the story his father had told of the incident that took place at the school house. In answer to Matt's question, he added that the Ashburn twins, along with Jerry Jacobs, a fourth grader, had headed west toward the scattering of farm houses that populated the prairie about three miles outside of town. They were accompanied by their teacher, Jenny Kurtz. "Miss Kurtz had some kinda rope, Marshal—mighta been a piece of washline—and she told the kids they all had to hold on to it real tight. Last I saw of 'em, they was all walkin' side by side holdin' on to the rope."

"Thanks, Petey, you've been a big help. And I thank you for what you and the Heckard boy did to get the other children into town safely. I'm obliged to you, son."

"Weren't no big deal, Marshal. What we shoulda done was punch out old Windbag Wheatley."

"No, Petey, you boys did what was right. Now I'm gonna follow the lead you gave me and see if I can find your teacher and the children." He finished his coffee and turned to Lena Kreider, "Fine boy you have there, ma'am. Oh, and Pete said to tell you he's over at the Long Branch waiting to ride out again if necessary."

"Let's hope it's not necessary. I hate to think of anyone being out on the prairie in this storm. You take care now, Marshal."

**TBC**

**xXxXx**


	2. Chapter 2

**My Town, My Responsibility**

**Chapter Two**

**On the Trail**

Already trail weary and cold from the extra long ride down from Hayes, Matt picked up his mount at the stable and with a soft, "Sorry, son, but you're the best option I have," pointed the buckskin west in the direction of the prairie and the path that young Petey said the children and their teacher had taken. After clearing the edge of town, man and horse were riding into the wind, the unrelenting sleet and snow pelting their faces and stinging their eyes. It was slow going, and even as they rode, the temperature plummeted, and the wet trail turned to treacherous ice beneath Buck's hooves. Visibility was reduced to almost zero, and after an hour or so of calling futilely into the dark for Jenny and the children and dismounting and re-mounting several times to ensure that an odd shape along the road was not the teacher or a small child, the lawman knew that neither he nor his horse could safely go on. He turned in the saddle and squinted into the blinding blizzard, seeking some semblance of shelter on the open prairie. A small copse of low hanging trees off to the right seemed like his best bet, and he nudged Buck toward them. Once off the trail, the animal unexpectedly shied and reared, losing his footing on the ice and sending his rider tumbling to the frozen ground.

As Dillon rolled clear of the flailing hooves, excruciating pain seared through his right knee, and he roared like a grizzly into the dark night. A scared voice near his ear whispered, "Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me."

Startled by both the fall and the tiny voice coming from the trees, Matt responded softly. "I won't hurt you. My name's Matt. I'm Marshal Dillon from Dodge City. What's your name?"

"I can't see you. Are you the big man that wears a badge on his shirt?"

"Yep. That would be me. And would your name be Hallie, by any chance?"

"Unh hunh. M'brother Henry's here, too. He's layin' on my legs, and he won't get off. I think he's mad at me for bein' scared. He won't even answer me when I talk to him."

Fearing the worst, Matt said, "Hallie, honey, I'm going to get a lantern from my saddle. You just sit tight, and I'll be right back." He gingerly rose to his full height, pleased to note that, except for a stinging raw spot on his face where his cheek had scraped the ice and a sharp pain in his knee, he was uninjured. He trudged as quickly as possible to the spot where Buck was now standing placidly, waiting for his rider to return. He untied the lantern from the saddlehorn and, holding it high, worked his way back to the trees and to Hallie and her brother.

He set the lantern on the ground and said, "Okay, let's get you and Henry out of there. Are you hurt, Hallie?"

"My arm hurts," she answered and began to cry softly. "It hurts real bad. And Henry still won't get off my legs," she added with a little whine.

"All right, then. I'm gonna lift Henry off of you first." In the lantern light he could clearly see the boy lying prone across his sister's legs, unconscious—or worse. Bending down, he lifted the child into his arms, noting the staring, unfocused eyes and the total lack of movement. Turning his back to the little girl, he slapped the child's face. No response. Shifting Henry to one arm, he reached under the thin jacket and placed his palm against the little chest. Feeling nothing, he slid his fingers down to the tiny wrist, searching for a pulse as he had watched Doc do hundreds of times. Again he felt nothing.

"Hallie, I need to carry you and Henry out of here. I'm going to lean down, and I need you to put your good arm around my neck and hold on real tight. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," she whimpered and did as instructed. Matt hefted her high against his chest, grabbed the lantern with the hand of the arm still holding Henry, and carried the twins out of the copse of trees to the waiting horse. He laid Henry across the animal's back and lifted Hallie onto the big saddle. "Hold on honey, I'll be up behind you in a minute," he said. He tied the lantern again to the saddlehorn and secured Henry behind in the same manner he had used on many an outlaw. Then he climbed into the saddle behind the little girl and asked, "How did you two get here? And where are your teacher and Jerry?"

"Teacher fell down."

"Can you tell me where she fell down?"

"Back there," the child replied, pointing a tiny finger in what might have been any direction at all.

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Matt's lips twitched at the absurdity of expecting a six year old to give accurate directions in the face of a blinding blizzard and pitch blackness. He doubted many grown men could do that. He sighed and tried again. "You were walking home from school with your teacher and Jerry Jacobs. Your teacher fell down. Can you tell me what happened next?"

"Teacher told us to sit under the trees 'cause they would keep us warm. And she told us we should stay together, but Jerry didn't listen. He said he was big enough to go get help."

"So you're saying your teacher is somewhere around here, too? And she talked to you after she fell down?"

"Uh hunh." Hallie twisted in the saddle to look at the big man behind her. "I'm hungry, mister. Can we go home now?"

"Tell you what," he took half of a ham sandwich from the napkin in his pocket and handed it to her. "You sit here and eat this while I look around for your teacher. Then I'll take you home," he answered as he climbed wearily down from the saddle and tied Buck to the nearest bush.

"JENNY, JENNY KURTZ, CAN YOU HEAR ME? IT'S MATT DILLON. HOLLER IF YOU CAN HEAR ME.

He repeated the call several times, stopping after each one to listen for a response. Finally he heard a weak, "Over here, Marshal."

He called again, but this time there was only silence. He called again and again until finally there was another thin cry of "here." Heart pounding, he followed the sound of the schoolteacher's voice, pacing off about a hundred yards before he found her, face down in a bank of snow. "Thank God, Jenny. Are you hurt?"

"My feet feel like they're on fire, and I keep passing out. The children—are they okay?"

"Hallie says her arm hurts, but she seems okay otherwise. I'm afraid Henry didn't make it, though. And I haven't seen Jerry. Hallie says he went for help." He lifted the schoolteacher to her feet. "Can you walk?"

"I guess we'll find out." She smiled gamely at him in spite of her pain, took five steps and fell forward against him.

"Jenny?" Matt scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the waiting horse and child. As he stood trying to figure out how to get the school teacher onto Buck's back, and how to keep her there, she again re-gained consciousness. "Jenny, do you think you can ride?"

"If I can keep from fainting, I can," she replied. "I don't know why this keeps happening."

"Let's get you up there and see how it goes. It's gonna be a tight fit, but I think we can make it." He slid Henry's body as far back on Buck's rump as possible and swung Jenny up in front of it. Speaking softly to his horse, he said, "You're not gonna be happy about this, fella, but it's the only way." He then hoisted his own body in front of Jenny's and settled the little girl in front of him. They rode in silence for several minutes with only the hint of a pale moon in the sky to suggest the way. The slow, rolling pace of the horse lulled Hallie to sleep against his chest, and he called softly over his shoulder, "You still with me, Jenny?"

"Right here, Marshal. I still feel lightheaded, and my feet are burning something fierce, but at least I'm staying upright."

"Good, then you can help keep a lookout for Jerry. There should be some farmhouses coming up soon, and we'll stop at the first one we see." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "You hungry, Jenny? Maybe it would help if you ate something."

"Maybe, but I don't have…"

"Reach in my left coat pocket. You'll find a couple sandwiches in there. Take what you want. Hallie ate half of one a while back."

"I'll eat the other half. How 'bout you, Marshal, you want one, too?"

"Not right now. I can wait."

They rode on in silence once again until Jenny spoke softly. "I'm sorry, Marshal. I knew it was wrong to send the children out in this storm, and I shouldn't have listened to Mr. Wheatley, but he…" Her voice trailed off.

"It's all right, Jenny. Petey Kreider told me what happened, that Wheatley threatened you with losing your job." His voice was hard, angry.

"It shouldn't have mattered, I should have done what I knew was right, job or no job."

"None of that, Jenny, don't go blamin' yourself."

Again there was silence—silence and freezing cold and swirling snow as they rode along—the big buckskin picking his careful way across the icy prairie with his precious cargo—the lawman, a sleeping child, the frozen body of her twin brother, and the schoolteacher who bore the guilt for something that was not her fault.

"Marshal, is that a light off to the left?"

"It is, Jenny, I just spotted it myself." Resisting the urge to spur their mount to a faster pace, Matt tugged on the reins and pointed him toward the glow of light in the distance.

**xXx**

"Open up!" He pounded on the door for the second time. "It's Marshal Dillon!"

This time the door swung open, and he found himself looking down into the startled face of a pretty dark-haired girl of barely more than twenty. "Oh, Marshal, am I ever glad to see you. Come in. I'm Nelda Gallagher."

Placing a hand on Hallie's head, Matt ducked through the doorway with the sleeping child nestled on his shoulder. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Gallagher. I'm Matt Dillon, the marshal over in Dodge City. I'd like to warm her up in here if it's all right with you." As he spoke, Hallie lifted her head from his shoulder and asked drowsily, "Are we home, mister?"

"No, honey, we're not home, but this nice lady is going to let us stay here where it's warm for a while. He looked pointedly at Nelda Gallagher, who nodded in agreement. "Can you take her for a minute? There's someone else I need to bring in."

He transferred Hallie into Nelda's arms and went quickly outside to lift Jenny from the saddle and carry her indoors. He felt a pang of guilt about leaving Henry behind, but saw no point in bringing a dead child into the house to get warm. Back inside, he deposited Jenny into the rocking chair by the fire, noticing that Nelda had already removed Hallie's wet clothing and had her tucked up on the davenport under a colorful knitted afghan. With the most pressing matters taken care of, Matt turned to Nelda Gallagher. "You said you were glad to see me, ma'am? Is there a problem here?"

"Not a problem exactly, but there's a little boy…" She pointed to a door that presumably led to a bedroom. "He came by late this afternoon looking for help. Says his name is Jerry Jacobs and that his teacher and classmates were lost in the storm. I wanted to help him, honest I did, but my baby is only a month old. I couldn't leave him to go out looking for them, and I couldn't very well take him with me either. So I did the only thing I knew to do—I fed Jerry and put him in one of my husband's shirts and put him to bed. He's been asleep ever since."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, a smile crossed Matt Dillon's face. "Mrs. Gallagher, that young lady in the rocking chair is Jerry's teacher, Jenny Kurtz, and this little girl is Hallie, one of those classmates he mentioned."

"One of?" Nelda questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Unfortunately, yes. Her brother Henry didn't make it. He's outside strapped to my horse."

He saw the tears start in Nelda's dark eyes before she crossed the room to Jenny's side and asked matter-of-factly, "What can I do for you, Miss Kurtz?" Then she turned back to the lawman. "I don't know if you can get to the barn or not, but you're welcome to feed and water your horse and put him up if you can."

Matt nodded his thanks, pulled his collar up one more time, and walked back outside to lead the buckskin to shelter. Both man and horse slipped and slid their way to the barn to find a draft horse and a small paint already housed there. He removed the heavy saddle and gently laid Henry on a bale of hay saying, "I'm sorry this happened to you, Henry, but you probably saved your sister's life—or at least her legs."

The barn was neat and well-fitted, and Matt had no trouble finding a coarse brush which he used to rub down his exhausted mount with quick, sure strokes that removed the ice and snow from the horse's coat. He inspected each hoof and used his pocket knife to remove the small, hard balls of ice that had embedded themselves into the grooves of each shoe. "You feel better now, boy? Enjoy it while you can 'cause we're not done yet." He put down an extra ration of grain and hay, and assuming it had been a while since the other horses had eaten, too, he pulled down feed for them as well and broke the ice on the troughs so that they all could drink. He made note of an empty stall at the end of the row, presumed it belonged to the husband's horse, and wondered where Mr. Gallagher might be.

Back inside, he found Jenny in dry clothes and seated at the kitchen table with Nelda, talking, drinking hot coffee and eating corn bread warm from the oven. Hallie was still curled under the afghan, and he assumed Jerry was still asleep in the room Nelda had indicated earlier. Just then a baby cried, and Nelda excused herself and went quickly into the only remaining room in the little house. While he took off his hat and shrugged out of his wet coat, Jenny poured coffee into the third cup on the table, cut off an enormous wedge of corn bread and placed it on a plate. "Sit down, Marshal. I know for a fact you haven't had anything to eat in hours."

Nodding, he lowered his huge frame onto the kitchen chair, wincing as he stretched out his aching leg. "Thanks, Jenny. You feeling better?"

"I am. Nothing like a warm fire and good food to make a girl feel better. Speaking of which, there are still two sandwiches in your coat pocket if you want something more than this."

Matt grinned and rose again to retrieve the blue and white checked napkin from his pocket. He returned to the table just as Nelda Gallagher came back into the room. After waiting for her to sit down, he said, "You mentioned your husband, Mrs. Gallagher. May I ask where he is?"

"Please call me Nelda, Marshal. Joe—my husband—went into Dodge this morning. He had some business at the bank and the land office, but he hasn't come back. I was hoping you might have some word of him, but…"

Matt shook his head, then remembered a tall young man with blond curls seated with the group of men around the stove at the Long Branch. Someone had called him 'Joe.' "What does he look like, Nelda?"

"Oh, he's a fine lookin' man, big, but not as big as you. He has lots of blond curls that kinda flop down on his forehead." She blushed. "But you wouldn't be noticin' that. He was wearing a blue and black flannel shirt."

"I saw him, Nelda. He was with a group of men who had ridden out looking for Hallie and her brother. They were waitin' for another search party to return to see if they needed to ride out again."

"That sounds like something Joe would do, he's always looking for adventure of some kind. That's how come we're here. We were living in a nice, quiet town back in Pennsylvania, but Joe thought it was too quiet, so we packed up and headed west. He talked about going all the way to California, but then when it looked like the baby was coming sooner than expected, we decided it might be better to settle right here, at least for a while."

"How long have you been here?" Matt asked as he spread a thick layer of butter onto the corn bread.

"Just a little over a month, since just before Davey was born."

"Well, Nelda, I'm mighty grateful to find you out here tonight. Would it be all right with you if I rest my horse for a couple hours? Then I'll try to get Hallie on home to her parents."

"Of course, Marshal. If you'd like to rest, too, just go into that bedroom where Jerry is. I looked in on him while you were out at the barn, and he was still sound asleep."

"I might take you up on that in a bit." He turned to the teacher, who had been quietly sipping her coffee. "You have any idea what happened to Hallie's arm? She said it hurts real bad."

Jenny Kurtz shook her head. "Nothing happened while she was with me. But she's a stoic little thing. If she says it hurts 'real bad,' I'm sure it does." She shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I just don't know."

"Well, she's sleepin' peaceful right now, so I'm not going to bother her to take a look at it. We'll see what she says when she wakes up." Matt rose from the chair. "And now, Nelda, I'm going to take you up on that offer of a bed, but if I'm not out here again in two hours, promise you'll come wake me."

**TBC**

**xXxXx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Coming Home**

In spite of the very late hour, the Long Branch was still open, offering shelter, warmth and food to the search parties and anyone else who happened to wander in hoping to hear news of the lost children and their teacher.

Festus and his men returned, cold and morose. There had been no sign of the Ashburn twins, no sign of Jenny Kurtz, no sign of Doc, and, for that matter, no sign of Matt Dillon, either. "It jist doan figger that we ain't run into nobody out there. Where d'ya think they done got to?" he asked, rubbing his hands together in front of the stove.

Quint shook his head as he picked up his coat, ready to ride out again with his own group of men. "Could be anywhere. Thing is, it's darker than the inside of a grave out there. We could pass three feet away from those kids and not even know it, but I'm convinced we're the only ones out there."

"That's what I've been a-thinkin' too, Comanche. I been a'firin' inta the air ever onct in a while, but ain't no one firin' back."

For the first time, Kitty looked up from what must have been the hundredth hand of solitaire she had dealt herself that evening. "Only an adult would fire back, the children don't have guns. And if no adult fires back, then that means…"

"…that any adult out there has ridden far enough to reach the homesteads and has taken shelter with one of the farm families," Quint cut in quickly and with more conviction than he really felt.

"Well, shore, Miz Kitty. Ol' Doc done told us he wuz a-headin' inta the country, and he's fer shore all cozied up at a nice warm farm house. That ol' scudder probly done stuffed hisself full a fried chicken and tater salad and falled t'sleep dreamin' 'bout thet big ol' catfish whut always gits away."

Kitty gave him a weak smile. "I hope you're right, Festus." _And where are you, Matt, where are you on this dreadful night? _she wondered.

"And Matt's proved many a time that he can take care of himself. He'll be all right." Quint shrugged into his coat and turned to the men. "I'm heading back out. Anyone coming with me?"

The tall, young man who had ridden with him earlier, and who he knew only as Joe, pulled on his coat. "I'll ride with you far as the Cat Tail Creek turnoff. My farm's just past there, and my wife and baby are alone, so this is going to be my last trip. I'd like to help more, but I have a responsibility to them, too."

"You did your share, man, no need to apologize. Anyone else?" Two other men rose and put on their coats as well.

**xXx**

Once at the school house, the four men split up—two of them again searching the area near the school while Quint rode with Joe in the direction of Cat Tail Creek. For the most part they rode in silence, eyes and ears straining for a glimpse or a sound that might lead them to the teacher and her young charges. When they reached the creek, Joe spoke up. "My farm—if you can rightly call it that yet—is just beyond those trees," he said, gesturing off to the left. "You're welcome to come in and warm up. If I know Nelda, she has a pan of somethin' keeping in the oven—cornbread or raisin bread most likely. They're kind of her specialties." It was too dark for Quint to see the grin of pride on the younger man's face.

"Nah, I appreciate the offer, but I'm gonna fire another shot and ride on west a bit farther. Thanks for your help, man. Next time you're in Dodge, look me up at the blacksmith shop, and we'll head down to the Long Branch for somethin' stronger than coffee."

**xXx**

Always attuned to his surroundings even when sleeping, the unmistakable crack of a rifle jolted Matt Dillon from a few hours of much needed rest. He swung his long legs onto the floor and reached for his own rifle, noting that young Jerry was no longer in the bed beside him.

He dashed through the front room and out the door, not even stopping to pull on his coat and hat, and fired into the air. A shot answered back. He fired another, and the invisible rifleman somewhere in the distance once again returned fire. But not before a young man on a dark colored horse rode toward him.

"Who are you, mister, and what are you doin' on my property?" He asked the question even as he swung from the saddle and headed toward the front door. "Where's my wife?"

"I'm right here, Joe. Everything's fine," Nelda called from the doorway. "This is Marshal Dillon. Both of you get in here before you freeze to death."

But Matt turned to the young man. "Did you fire those shots?"

"No, sir, I didn't. Man named Quint did. We rode out here together, but he's headin' on west…"

Before Joe could finish his sentence, Matt reared back and shouted at the top of his powerful lungs, "Quint…Quint Asper. It's Matt. Matt Dillon. Over here." He pointed his rifle into the air and fired again. The wind and snow had stopped while he slept, and his voice carried on the now-still air. "Quint Asper. You ridin' west? Look to the south. You'll see a light."

Joe Gallagher added his own shout into the dark night. "Quint, this is Joe. Take the turn you saw me take. It will lead you straight to us."

Within minutes the blacksmith rode into the yard. Both he and Joe unsaddled their horses in the barn, gave them a quick rubdown, averted their eyes from the small form on the hay bale, and returned to the house to gather around the Gallagher's kitchen table. Introductions were made, and Jenny and Nelda joined them while schoolmates Hallie and Jerry played on the floor with pieces of rawhide.

Quint spoke quietly to Matt. "I assume that was Henry I saw in the barn?"

The lawman nodded. "I best be getting' them on home. Can you take Jenny back to town with you? She needs to see Doc, and maybe Kitty can put her up for the night."

"I'll take Jerry with me, too." He turned to the boy. "Your folks live over by the crossroad, don't they?" At the child's nod he continued, "Must'a been snowin' so hard you couldn't see your turnoff and just kept on walkin'. We'll get you home, son." He turned to Matt, "And I'll meet you back at the Long Branch."

Matt nodded, took one last swallow of coffee, rose and said, "Hallie, you ready to go home to your momma and poppa?"

The little girl bobbed her head. "Are we gonna take Henry home, too?"

"We sure are, honey. He'll be ridin' behind us just like he was before. That okay with you?"

Hallie nodded again. "I know what happened," she said quietly. "Momma's gonna be sad." Then she reached for another of the oatmeal cookies that Nelda had set out for the children when they awoke. Jerry did the same, and both children put on their coats, trusting the marshal and the blacksmith to take them safely home.

**xXx**

Hallie's homecoming was bittersweet for Tom and Martha Ashburn—elation over their daughter's safe return, but despair over the loss of her twin brother. After joining them in a heartbreaking moment of prayer for little Henry, the lawman allowed his horse to set the pace on the trip home. The sun was shining, the freak storm having passed in the night, but Dillon's thoughts were dark and gray. He wasn't a vengeful man, but he silently vowed that Winthrop Wheatley would somehow pay for the havoc he had caused.

**xXx**

"I done told ya, Doc, a Haggen nose kin smell snow when it's still a far ways up in them clouds." He lowered the finger he had been pointing toward the ceiling and directed it at the doctor. "Iffen I ever tell ya sumpin like that agin, I jist bet you'll be believin' me."

"All right, so you were right about the snow." Doc hid his smirk behind a swipe of his mustache. "But I still say the only thing a Haggen nose can smell is free food and beer."

"You ol' scudder. You know thet ain't rightly true." A sly grin crossed Festus' face. "But iffen that's yer way o'sayin' that ya'd like to buy me a beer, mebbe even some vittles, well, then, I accept, and I most kindly thank ya."

Matt stood close beside Kitty at the end of the bar, talking quietly, one ear on their friends' exchange. His somber face broke into a genuine smile. "You know, Kitty, there were moments last night when I almost missed hearing those two bicker—almost, I say." He drained his mug and touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. "I'll be back later. There's something I need to take care of right now."

**xXx**

Matt Dillon tied the buckskin to the ornate hitching post in front of the large dormered house on Linden Street. A maid in starched black broadcloth opened the door to his knock, surprise showing on her face at the sight of the marshal on the front porch. She invited him in, but he declined, saying he wanted to speak with Mr. Wheatley and that he preferred to wait on the porch. Moments later, the president of the school board appeared, dapper in a finely cut three piece suit, his gold watch chain draped conspicuously across the vest. "Good afternoon, Marshal. What brings you over to the law-abiding side of town?"

"A little unfinished business, Mr. Wheatley. If I could do what I'd like, I'd be here to throttle you, but you're not worth my job. As it is, I want you to hitch up that fancy buggy of yours and ride out to the Ashburn place with me. I want Tom and Martha to hear from your own lips why you ordered those students to walk home from school in the face of that storm, leaving one of their children with a broken arm and her twin brother in the grave."

"How dare you talk to me that way, Dillon? That storm was God's will."

"True, the storm was God's will, but ordering those children out into it was your will. God had nothing to do with it."

Wheatley's face turned purple with anger. "You may be the marshal in this town, but you won't be for much longer if I have anything to say about it!" he roared.

Dillon's voice was dangerously low. "Your intimidation tactics won't work on me, Wheatley. I'm not a single young female who needs a decent job to support herself." He paused. When there was no response from the rotund man, he continued. "And be sure to bring along that fat wallet of yours because we're going to stop by Percy Crump's so you can pay for that little boy's funeral expenses. And we're stopping by Doc Adams' office, too, so you can pay him—and pay him well—for setting little Hallie's arm and for Jenny Kurtz's medical treatment. My God, man, can you even imagine the pain those two were in for all those hours? And," he continued, "You are also going to compensate Miss Kurtz for lost wages while she's off work. You do realize, don't you, that she lost several toes on each foot, thanks to you?"

"That wasn't my fault, Dillon. I ordered her to send the children home. I didn't tell her she had to go."

"Damn it, man, you're a fool! What did you think she would do? Allow those babies to find their way home alone? Maybe that's what you would have done, but Jenny's a better person than you can ever hope to be, and so are Petey Kreider and Cody Heckard. They did what was right. They might be only fifteen, but they're men, Wheatley, real men. A bulging wallet and fancy suits and buggies and walking sticks don't make you a man. It's what's inside of you and how you treat others that make you a man. And you don't have it, Wheatley, you don't have what it takes."

Winthrop Wheatley was now twitching with rage. "And I suppose you think you do have what it takes, Dillon. Had to play the big hero didn't you, and go dashing around the prairie in a snow storm rescuing homestead riff-raff and a woman who is…well, what kind of woman leaves her parents' home and takes off on her own anyway? She's most likely the same ilk as that saloon keeper you're so fond of, always flaunting her favors in front of…."

Matt's powerful backhand caught Wheatley square on the chin, and the president of the school board dropped like a sack of feed in front of his door. Matt's mouth stretched into a satisfied smirk, and he said aloud, "I was wrong, Wheatley, it _**is**_ worth my job to knock you silly right here on your own porch." Looking around, he saw a small container of rainwater at the edge of the top step and poured it over the unconscious man's head.

Wheatley sputtered back to awareness. "You've worked your last day in this town Dillon, I tell you, your very last day."

Matt shrugged. "Maybe so, but today I'm still the marshal, and you're coming with me. Now hitch up that buggy and let's get moving."

"What about my clothes? They're wet and cold. And ruined."

"Perfect." The marshal's smile was wicked. "That's exactly how it was for all of those children you put out in the storm yesterday. Wet. And cold. And very dangerous. Now stop whining and start moving, or so help me, I'll slug you again and sling you over my horse and ride you through town like any other common criminal."

**xXxXx**

**Epilogue**

A week later, Kitty lowered her reading glasses and looked at Matt over the edge of the newspaper. "Do you have any idea just how fortunate we were here in Dodge? According to this article in the _Omaha World-Herald, _the Army Signal Corps verified that the temperature in many parts of the Dakotas, Minnesota and Nebraska dropped eighteen degrees in three minutes and kept dropping...from mid-40s in the morning to six degrees at 2 p.m. to fourteen below zero at nightfall. It goes on to say that _'hurricane force winds and horizontal snow enveloped the little prairie towns for a matter of several hours,_' and that '_visibility on the open plains was reduced to zero in a matter of minutes.'_" She looked down at the page again. "And get this, Matt, it says that _hundreds of head of cattle died standing like statues in pastures, frozen to death before they could even fall down_." She put the lorgnette down. "Bad as it was here, it could have been so much worse. If you ask me, this town was mighty lucky."

"Not so lucky, Kitty, Most people came through all right, but we still lost one little boy. And Jenny…well, Doc says she'll be okay, but it's gonna take time before she can walk normally again—if ever." His tone was somber and sad.

As she folded the newspaper, Kitty's hand touched his. "That's hardly your fault, Matt, or Jenny's fault, either. She followed Wheatley's order and dismissed the children from school. He's the one who should carry the guilt for Henry's death."

He frowned and shook his head. "Thanks, Kitty. I appreciate your saying that, but it's my town. It was my responsibility. I took an oath to protect this town—and the people in it—and I couldn't do it. That's a mighty bitter pill to swallow." He stood and put on his coat. "I have work to do."

Her blue eyes were soft as she watched him. "You gonna be all right, cowboy?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll be all right." He forced a hint of a smile. "I'll see you later, Kitty."

**The End**

**Note: While this story is fiction, the details Kitty read from the newspaper are real, as referenced in David Laskin's book, **_**The Children's Blizzard**_**, about a storm that took place on the Great Plains in 1888 and that killed approximately 235 people, many of them children let out of school and unable to make it home. **


End file.
